


Covenant

by hypometric



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Au Ra Warrior of Light, F/M, Trans Female Character, Trans Warrior of Light, adding Midgardsormr to scenes he totally wasn't in for the sake of the story, eventually spoilers for Sigmascape, spoilers for all of Heavensward
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-03-03
Packaged: 2019-03-16 10:39:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13634601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypometric/pseuds/hypometric
Summary: Who treadeth now upon Midgardsormr's bones and waketh him from slumber sweet?





	1. Thine Own Self

Even in his deathsleep, Midgardsormr knew of the Dragonsong War. The rancor of his child did not compel him the way it did the lesser drakes; he was the primogenitor, the First, and he could no more be commanded by the song of his progeny than he could be commanded by one of his own claws. But it roused him nonetheless.

The first time he saw the Warrior was when she stood before his corpse, tangled up with the remains of the warship he had brought to ruin. He brought his anger and his anima to bear against her, and yet still she stood, still she fought back with fire and ice and lightning, wove the very aether around herself into a shield before she surrounded the remains of his children with it and burned them to ash.

The fight left him weak and drained, with just enough aether left to converse with her through a half-rotted throat. Who was this impudent mortal to tread the ground where he had fallen, to come to him? Who was she to earn the trust of Hydaelyn with her talk of justice? Even the scales that covered her body, even the thin tail that curled behind her, reminded him of the progeny that he had lost to the folly of man. So he stripped her of Her blessing, stole her power just as mankind had stolen Ratatoskr's. And with it he formed a body to watch over her, to listen and wait and see whether she truly was of Light or a mere pretender, nothing without the protection of her Mother.

* * *

In those early days, he hid himself from the world and from her, existing as a mere voice in her head, only manifesting his aetherial body when there would be none else to see. Though he did not expect her to succeed, he knew even that faint hope would be extinguished if they saw her with a dragonet, let alone with the father of dragons. So he slept coiled around her soul, drawing off of her energy to sustain his spirit; he watched through her eyes and heard through her horns.

So he was with her when she lost the protection of her mortal allies, her friends scattered and her trust shattered. Another betrayal of man against man, all for the lure of power. He would not have been surprised if it had broken her, driven her to turn her back on the world. And they certainly passed many a cliff, many an opportunity for one wrong step. But she persisted, struggled through the snow with fire in her heart and her soul until she reached Ishgard.

During their first night together, he watched from atop her bed as she worked some manner of alchemy with supplies she had risked life and limb to purchase before her hasty departure from Ul'dah. A retort, a mortar, a pestle, powders and potions that he could not guess at the nature or purpose of, all to produce a bottle full of some kind of pale blue liquid. She barely gave it time to cool from the burner's flame before she swallowed it in one swift motion, and he could see her shudder of relief all the way from her head to the tip of her scaled tail.

"What manner of draught is this?"

"That is on a need to know basis, and none need to know but me."

He wanted to snarl at her, but the sheer brazenness of her response stilled his throat, and so instead he settled for silence.

* * *

Where Ysayle had fallen, the Warrior had succeeded. Ravana's might, the fury of a species single-minded on conquest and expansion, had proven no match for her sheer aetherial power. She moved around the arena faster than he could keep up with through her eyes: one moment his blades would be crashing down on her head, the next she would be behind him and unleashing an infernal gout of flame on him. But Midgardsormr was not impressed. He had seen her might firsthand, had known her skill in the lost arts of black magic.

What impressed him came later, as she was collecting medicine for a dragon that despised her and her kind.

"Why dost thou aid him, daughter of man? Wert thou injured and dying in Ishgard, the only salvation thou wouldst find from him would be a swift death." He hovered by her shoulder and watched her search the ruins; explaining to the dragons of Dravania why their sire was amongst them would take far too much time, so it was only in moments where the two of them were alone that he allowed himself the pleasure of a body.

"Isn't that the point of all of this? Nidhogg's brood despise us. But I am tired of seeing people fall to this senseless war, and I may yet save Ohl Ahs from being yet another victim of it." She paused, fingers trailing along the cover of a mold-stained tome. "Here. A book of medicine for dragons, written in the hand of man."

"And if thou canst not stay Nidhogg's hand?"

She lifted the tome from its resting place and tucked it under her arm. "Then I suppose this conflict will need to claim one last life." 

Before he could reply, she was outside again, and he let his body dissolve into aether lest the inquisitive dragonet Kal Myhk ask her too many questions about her strange companion.

* * *

Disaster struck her in the Sea of Clouds. A violent gust of wind near the edge of a floating island nearly knocked her off of her feet, nearly sent her tumbling into the abyss below. The Warrior managed to catch herself before she fell, but her backpack was not fastened tightly, and so he watched through her eyes as vial after vial of the mysterious potion fell into the cloudy abyss. He could hear her choked cry of anguish, feel her pain through the link of their covenant, and he felt... pity, almost, for her.

'Twas a strange thing. He had seen her betrayed and beaten, go up against insurmountable odds and insurmountable gods and come out the other side with nothing but her grim determination, seen her start to reignite the light of Hydaelyn’s blessing through force of will. And yet the lack of this curious concoction could reduce her to nothing?

That night, when Estinien and Ysayle were asleep, she drew forth one of the remaining vials from her backpack, but she only drank half before she returned it. He could sense the tears in her eyes, even if their link could not let him read her further; the meaning of it all was yet a mystery. But she had been willing to treat with Ysayle, to at least entertain the notion of ending the war with her. She kept the peace between cold-hearted heretic and hide-bound hunter. Even if this all failed and the war continued for another bloody millennium, she had come farther than he had thought possible.

So distracted was she that she barely even noticed him drawing on her aether to manifest himself; her gaze remained fixed on the fire until his snout nudged at her thigh. She looked down at him in surprise, mouth open to say something, but... nothing came. Instead he just climbed into her lap, taking just a little bit of care to not dig his claws into her skin or scales, and curled up there.

"Thou art strong, daughter of man."

He could barely hear her soft 'thank you'. But he did feel her arm around his body, and soon afterwards he followed her when she went to finally take her rest. 

* * *

When all was said and done, when Nidhogg lay dead and robbed of his eyes in the Aery, he should have felt... something. Sorrow at the loss of one of his children, though he had been lost to rage a millennium ago. Joy that the War might truly be over, though the Eyes still remained in the world. But instead, there was naught. He turned the gaze of his soul towards the Warrior; even reading the surface of her thoughts, he could see her worry.

"Ishgard. We have to tell them the truth."

"Who would listen to thee? To hear that their entire lives were founded on lies and betrayal would drive them mad."

"The truth will out one way or another. 'Tis better that it do so sooner rather than later, or the lie will destroy you from within." A sad smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

* * *

A desperate rescue of one friend, a noble sacrifice of another. Death surrounded the Warrior once more. She screamed her fury at the retreating airship, tried to reduce it to ash, but it was too far, too late. He could feel her anger through their link, deep and painful like a gouge in her soul.

And yet none of it showed the night in her strange alchemical ritual; an onze of powdered wyvernbone here, a drop of deepeye tears there. Her hands moved calm, steady, precise as she brewed her potions, the same as they always did, and soon the glass bottle filled up with the familiar blue liquid. But once the work was finished she barely even gave it time to cool before she measured it into a vial and swallowed it in one gulp. He was resting on the table beside her retort, so he could see her shiver, see the faint smile that it brought to her lips; it had been the first full dose she'd taken since that day in the Sea of Clouds.

* * *

The Warrior, ever the optimist, told Tiamat that soon the war would be over, that there was no need for her to stay imprisoned. But she stayed fast, wrapped up in chains of man, chains of her own despair, as her brother was forever bound by his own rage. As he had himself been bound by his own tired cynicism. And as the Warrior walked away, Midgardsormr flying beside her, he could see it deep within her: the final crystal's light shining forth. She had been shattered and reforged, stronger than ever, against all odds and against his expectations.

So he gathered all the aether he could spare and shaped it into the form he had born when he was a mere hundred years old. He stretched out his wings, partly to show off his figure (for it had been too long since he wore a form that could be called 'imposing' without laughter) and partly simply for the joy of being more than the small, diminished thing.

“If you wouldst journey to the center of these ruins, Warrior, then I shall carry you.”

She’d watched him with a mix of interest and surprise, but never did her emotions overwhelm her. He supposed all her time with dragons had inured her. So she calmly placed one gloved hand on his forehead, the bare tips of her fingers brushed against his ridges, and bowed her head.

“I am honored to accept your assistance.”

And then the moment passed and she turned on her heel, away from Tiamat and the Reactor. “But first, a meal. I’d hate for my spells to be interrupted by hunger.” So she set off, looking around for a quiet spot free from the gaze of the cursed creatures that wandered the island, someplace for her to rest.

Eventually she came to rest, her back against a nearby outcropping of rock as she looked upon Azys Lla. He settled down besides her, watched as she retrieved meats that had been salted and wrapped in ice-infused cloth. And to his surprise, she tore off a strip and held it in the palm of her hand.

“I suppose you don’t need to eat, but perhaps you’ll enjoy it all the same.”

He leaned forward, sniffed it. Salt was a new flavor to him, unpleasant and harsh to one used to fresh kills and fire-cooked meat. But...

He snatched the meat out of her palm in one quick motion of his snout and swallowed it whole. “I thank thee, Warrior.”

The rest of the meal passed in silence. Midgardsormr was in no hurry for another taste of Ishgardian cuisine, so he paced around her, took a few experimental test-flights to make sure he remembered how. When he finally returned to her, she was holding that familiar leather pouch.

"Daughter of man. What beareth thee forwards when all the world be against thee? In my countless years I have seen men slaughter and kill themselves and my kind for naught, and even the legendary peace of Shiva and Hraesvelgr lasted but a moment. Yet still you press on, ever hopeful.”

Delicately, she pulled a vial out of its protective pouch so he could see it. The sickly green light in Azys Lla reflected in the crystal glass of the vial itself, but the liquid itself was still the same pale blue as ever. 

"This."

"Mine knowledge of alchemy is limited, but I was given to understand that 'liquid courage' is a mere appellation." (The father of dragons, telling a _joke_ for a _mortal_!)

She laughed a little and shook her head. “It's called a ‘fantasia’. Or at least, that’s the label I found on the Allagan tomestone that the formula was contained in. My body was... created wrong. Through some form of accident or random chance. I don't know why."

He tilted his head, looking up and down her briefly. "Never hast thou limped or stumbled in our travels."

She shook her head in response. "It functions as well as it ought; it is merely the wrong sort."

"Thy words go beyond my ken, Warrior."

"I am a woman, I know this deep within my soul. And yet my body does not seem to agree with me on this point." Her words were slow, sounding as if each one of them was chosen with laborious precision, though her gaze stayed on the pale blue liquid as it shifted within its container. "Through this, I have changed my body to one closer to that which I was always meant to have. And through my change, I am reminded that nothing is truly set in stone.”

“Then why hast thou kept this secret from thy companions? Never did I see thou partake before them.”

She sighed a little. “I would rather not tell them something that they do not need to know. I told you because... because I trust you.” She looked into his eyes, her bright blue gaze fixed on his. “And I trust you to keep this a secret between us.”

He dipped his head, nudged the tip of his snout against her heart; even through her robes, he could faintly hear it beating. “Thou hast my word, Astra.” (It was the first time he had ever called her by her name.) She stroked over his head and his neck gently, tilted her head down so that her chin could rest atop him. A moment that seemed to stretch into infinity, even for a timeless being.

And then it passed. She corked the bottle, wrapped it up in its pouch, and placed it gently within her bag before turning her gaze turned to where Archbishop Thordan and his knights were no doubt awaiting them. “Shall we?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> estradiol pills and fantasia are both blue and the connection was way too good to pass up :')
> 
> my plan is to do 3.1-3.5 in chapter 2, and then sigmascape in chapter 3, because oh my god that cutscene after o8...


	2. Ice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Warrior's return from Azys Lla ought to have been triumphant.

“Who— **what** are you?”

Hope. Revenge. Peace. Justice. Reckoning.

Silence. 

It gave Midgardsormr no small amount of satisfaction to see the look of abject terror on Thordan’s face as his aether dissolved. He was not the man that had betrayed his kin a thousand years ago, but he bore his name and his legacy of betrayal and slaughter.

A legacy whose passing Midgardsormr had only a moment to celebrate before Nidhogg’s eyes seized Estinien and the wyrm’s shade returned to haunt the world of the living. He watched the departure of his child—no, the _shade_ of his child—with sorrow in his heart.

* * *

The Warrior was quiet as he bore her towards Ishgard.

“‘Twould have been a simple matter for thee to claim the other Eye.”

“I know.”

"And doubtless Nidhogg's rage would hold far less sway over one that beareth not the blood of Thordan nor the vengeance of the War."

"I know."

“Full capable thou art in battle, but perhaps thy judgment outside of it is lacking.”

She paused. He could feel her grip on his back tighten, knees pressed together. “Then why didn’t you tell me to get it?”

“Be it my place to command the vaunted Warrior of Light as though thou wert a servant?”

“My apologies, I thought you wanted to see this war’s end.”

“And I had thought thou worthy of my covenant, but it appears that I was sorely mistaken!”

“Then I shall tell the families of those that die at Nidhogg’s hand that they fell because Midgardsormr thought himself above saving them!”

They completed the rest of their journey in painful silence.

Both of them put on a display of tempered triumph for the crowd that awaited them when they landed. The Warrior was quite skilled at hiding her emotions, and he doubted most of them could read the face of a dragon. But he could sense the chaos in her heart through their link, and he had no doubt she could read his own feelings. They could not use it to talk in words, but he was unsure what he would even say to her.

Once the impromptu ceremony had finished, Aymeric stepped closer until he could practically touch him. “I would meet further with you, but this is not the place, and your form is like to frighten the citizenry. I am given to understand you can inhabit the body of a dragonet?”

He shook his head. “Long had my lack of aether forced me into that form, and I would yet stretch my wings.” A half-truth. His smaller incarnation bore memories of the Warrior, and he was loath to think of her. “I shall meet thee outside the gates of Ishgard.”

“Very well. I shall be there anon.” Aymeric gave him a bow and turned to leave.

As Midgardsormr spread his wings and took to the air, he noticed that the Warrior was the only one not watching his departure.

* * *

The two of them walked around Coerthas as they talked: Midgardsormr inquired of Aymeric’s plans for peace, and Aymeric asked about the nations of Eorzea. A pair of dragoons trailed behind them, and though Midgardsormr could not see their gaze beneath their helmets he knew they were watching him.

“And what of the battle in Azys Lla? Is it true that the Warrior felled the late Archbishop by her own hand?”

Midgardsormr snorted and flapped his wings. “If thou wish to know of her deeds, then ask her thyself. ‘Tis her glory to share.”

Aymeric stopped, as if he had finally reached his destination. He made eye contact with the guards and flicked his gaze to the side. The dragons saluted him, planted their spears into the ground, and leapt a dozen yalms away in a jump so coordinated it was as if they were of one mind. 

“Thou hast come to trust me, then, son of man?”

“I already did. But though I trust the dragoons with my life, I do not know what _you_ think of them. You are troubled, and I would put you at ease.”

“And wherefore thinkst thou that my troubles are for mortal ears?”

“Because they already involve a mortal, and one that is important to all of Eorzea at that. I saw how eager you were to rid yourself of her, and I saw how she averted her gaze from you as she would a basilisk.”

Midgardsormr paused. “Thou art perceptive, then.”

“If I were not, I would not be Lord Commander.”

"Would that she had been as observant. Perchance then the Eyes would not be reunited." He breathed out a faint puff of fire. Aymeric let the flame pass without comment.

"You blame her inattention for Nidhogg's return, then?"

"How could I not?"

"Well, surely she did not force Estinien to take hold of the other Eye. No doubt she trusted in his strength to hold his influence at bay."

"Yet she dost bear the title of savior, not him. 'Twas her responsibility by all rights to begin with."

"Do you mean to suggest that her duty is to solve all of the world's problems and that she should refuse all help? She is strong, yes, but she is only one woman. I am... upset at Estinien's fate," (knuckles whitening a little), "but I yet hold her blameless. And if there is a way to free Estinien from Nidhogg's grasp, I have faith that she and the Scions will find it."

Midgardsormr closed his eyes and bowed his head. "Thy words have given me cause to reflect. I thank thee for thy counsel.” He nodded to Aymeric before he took to the air; though his thoughts were clarified somewhat, the idea of meeting the Warrior once more still filled him with a knot of feelings that refused to untangle.

So he perched himself atop a mountain, curled up, and let his gaze fall upon the distant Ishgard. Though his covenant still bound him to the Warrior, he could feel naught of her soul; it was a distance between them he had never before felt, and it made him uneasy. And the sight of the distant city reminded him of that night all those moons ago when she fled Ul’dah with her few allies. The snow barely even reached her pale skin before it melted (some thaumaturgical trick, no doubt), just as the despair of her companions had seemed to flee before her iron will.

Even when she lost Haurchefant, even when she lost Ysayle, she had always pressed forward. Grief passed into her and through her and she moved on. And it was, he supposed, one of the things he admired the most about her. Why should the corruption of Estinien have been any different?

“I have been a fool.” he muttered to himself as his wings unfurled once more. 

The sun hung low in the evening sky when he finally returned. The gate guards tensed a little at his presence but let him pass nonetheless; no doubt Aymeric had told them to expect him. But once he entered Ishgard proper he let his drake form dissolve into aether in favor of the smaller dragonet. Despite the wounding memories, it was indeed less likely to be noticed, less likely to incite panic.

He kept high to avoid the gaze of mortals as he made his way through the city, wings slowly beating the air. He had yet to master the skill of navigating cities, but he could feel the tug of the Warrior’s soul, and soon enough he once more found the room she had been staying at.

He recognized her ritual as soon as he saw her from outside her window: she hovered above the ground, with her legs folded beneath her, her hands hanging over her knees, staff in front of her as if the point was embedded in the ground. Her eyes were closed, her expression calm even as faint purple voidfire licked at her surcoat.

Clearly, she was busy. Maybe the next day she would be available—no, he had never known her to take a break—but disrupting her meditation would—

Her eyes opened. The fire fell into nothing, her legs unfolded and her feet found the ground beneath her, and she stepped over to open the window. “You can come in, if you’d like.”

He hung in the air for a moment, then flew inside and perched himself on her dresser. She closed the window, then sat atop her bed. For a while, neither of them spoke, they just looked at each other; he examined at her horns, her gloves, her tail, anywhere but her gaze.

He was the first to break the silence. “I owe thee an apology, daughter of Hydaelyn. Mine words were far harsher than thou deserved, and I chose them without care.”

“You certainly did."

“Though thou may blameth thyself, I—“ He paused as his mind caught up with what she had said. He had imagined self-flagellation, profound regret, not an almost-flippant reply.

“Though Estinien’s fate troubles me, I do still place the blame solely on his shoulders.”

He looked at her, head tilted to the side, still avoiding her gaze. “Thy words bear little semblance to those I expected from thee.”

“There are certainly those whose deaths I hold myself accountable for. Those who sacrificed themselves to protect me because I was weak. Those who fell in battles I could have ended sooner.” She trembled. Took a deep breath. “But Estinien is not one of them. He thought himself capable of holding the Eyes, and I have ever trusted the judgment of my companions.”

“Thy words ring true, yet would be cold comfort to those who will yet fall in Nidhogg’s war.”

“But you are the one in this room with me, not them. And I have always endeavored to speak plain with you as you have with me.”

He looked at her face for the first time, and he could see her gentle smile. “Then let my heated words fall into the abyss of memory. Full glad am I of my covenant with thee, and the fact remains that today thou hast slain an enemy great of peace.”

“My words bore a malice that ill suits our pledge, and I would be glad to leave them behind.” She closed her eyes and bowed slightly, her tail curled up behind herself. “But I must say, saving Eorzea has left me rather hungry, and a meal would not go amiss. Care to join me?” She stood up from her bed, made her way towards him, and offered out her forearm.

He hopped onto it and quickly made his way up to perch atop her shoulder so he could nuzzle against the dark scales that framed her face. “‘Twould be my pleasure.” A thought occurred to him. “Though, wouldst thou have me incarnate? They may think thee a regicide, and mine own presence would do little to abate their hatred.”

“It matters not to me. You are my ally, and if we are to see this war to its end then I would have you by my side.”

So once they were seated and she was busy with her meal, he did his best to cast his gaze around, keeping an eye out for threats. Some leered, some kept their hands close to their hips, some averted their gazed when they caught him staring. But none of them were fool enough to challenge her in a fight. It seemed that even the most pride-blinded patriot amongst them was not brave enough to confront a godslayer.

So as he rode her shoulder out of the bar and back to the Warrior’s inn, he turned his head around and let out a taunting puff of his blue flame. She must have sensed it somehow, because he could see the smirk on her face afterwards. She reached up to scratch at the base of his tail, and he let out a trill in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally this and the next chapter was going to be one big chapter but i felt like it matches the pacing more to split it, which is why the estimated chapter count got bumped to 4! my plan is still to cover the rest of heavensward in 3 and then do stormblood/sigmascape in 4. please look forward to it!
> 
> also seriously why is everyone so happy after you kill Thordan, not only is Nidhogg back but now he has *both* eyes! this is almost worse than it was before!
> 
> also also I just had the idea of Midgardsormr introducing Astra to Azdaja and Vrtra as their new mom and they're just utterly speechless


End file.
